


Of sleepless nights and things unsaid

by RewriteDestiny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Supernatural 9x03, UST, but also kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RewriteDestiny/pseuds/RewriteDestiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After telling Castiel that he cannot stay at the bunker, Dean finds himself consumed with guilt and feels compelled to apologize. When he gets to Cas' room he finds that the ex-angel is having a hard time sleeping and he wants to try and rectify this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of sleepless nights and things unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a bad mental health day so what do I do? I write a 9x03 reaction fic (to go with the other 3846474) because that episode was beautiful but also so damn sad.   
> Work is unbeta-ed and it's 3am so all mistakes are entirely my own!   
> I was gonna edit this some more and add a 'morning after' but the characters wanted to sleep so I didn't. But who knows? Maybe a morning after will come eventually!

Cas was hurt. Dean could read it in every line of his face, in the blue eyes that had been sparkling before he had begun to speak. Asking Cas to leave had devastated the man. He was no longer an angel, which meant that he felt the cruel knife of betrayal. He would’ve felt the sadness in his chest, felt the painfulness of the idea that ‘they don’t want me anymore’. 

Each thought made Dean feel more and more sick. He was laid in bed, face buried under his blanket, trying desperately to block out the mental image of Cas’ hurt look. Those eyes would haunt him forever. Just add it to the list of things I fuck up, he thought. The hunter had spent so long trying to avoid any meaningful connections (with anyone that wasn’t Sam) just so he could avoid moments like this. Sam was his main priority. He had been since the day he’d wrapped his arms around his tiny brother’s body and carried the child out of a burning building. Each bray of his heart said ‘protect Sam, keep him safe at all costs’. That bray had lost Dean so much over the years but Sam was always the most important thing and Dean could never bring himself to resent that fact. 

Now, though, he felt an obligation to someone else as well. The ex-angel with the overwhelming presence and the startling blue eyes. Castiel had given up so much for Dean. They had quite literally been to Hell and back. Seven long years had seen Dean’s overwhelming protective instinct develop to include Cas. He took in the angel just like he had taken in Sam and yet there was something else. He and Sam were brothers; always and forever; dangerously co-dependent and hideously broken. With Cas it was different. Everything about it was different. Looking at the angel made his stomach clench and his breath catch in his throat. He never let himself examine that feeling too closely though. If he examined it then he would have to face it and that was not a good idea. Repression was what Dean was good at, it was all that he knew. 

He turned over fitfully, feeling the cool air of the room hit his face and staring directly up at the ceiling. Once more that hurt face appeared in Dean’s mind and he could no longer cope with it. He threw his legs off the side of the bed and pushed himself up into the cool air of his room. He needed to apologise or check that Cas was alright or ... something. 

The closer he got to Cas’ room the more he was beginning to regret his decision to face his guilt head on. Dean never faced his guilt. If he did something he felt bad about then he’d drive 400 miles in the opposite direction and deny all knowledge of it happening. That was all he knew. However, there was a pang of something awful in his stomach when he realized that this was the only night Cas would be here. Tomorrow he’d be out on his ass and going ... who knows where? Dean thought of Cas, bedraggled and homeless. The once immense and terrifying angel of the lord reduced to rifling through bins and having sex with women he barely knew. He couldn’t let him go. He just couldn’t. But, he had to save Sam ... 

Before Dean realized it, he was outside Cas’ room. Should he just let the poor guy sleep? They were kicking him out tomorrow and he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since he had become human. The pang of guilt rang out in Dean’s chest again as he quietly knocked on the door, not really expecting a reply. 

“Yes?” Cas’ voice called out, sounding rough but mildly awake. 

“It’s me ... er ... Dean?” 

There was silence for a long moment and Dean grew slightly apprehensive that Cas, the once angel of the lord, was going to tell him to fuck off. 

There was some slight shuffling and then the door was pulled open. 

“Hello Dean,” the words were as monotone as ever but Cas wasn’t looking at the hunter. He was staring down at his own feet. This made Dean feel guiltier than ever. Cas always made eye contact, even if he hated you, but now he couldn’t bring himself to look at the man that was betraying him. 

Dean then, however, followed Cas’ gaze and found that he was staring at two pillows and a comforter on the floor beside the door. 

Dean’s brow furrowed; “were you sleeping on the floor?” 

Cas didn’t answer, he just threw the door open as an invitation to come in. 

Dean followed Castiel into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Suddenly, they were both very much alone, in a room that seemed to echo with all the things they had never said. 

This had been a bad idea. 

“Look ... I ... I really needed to ... make sure you had somewhere to go tomorrow,” Dean began lamely, rubbing his hand to the back of his neck in awkwardness. 

Castiel finally glanced up at him, those glassy blue eyes looking dim and oh-so-tired in the darkness of the room. 

“I have nothing,” said Cas, simply. There was no malicious intent behind it, he wasn’t trying to make Dean feel bad, he was just stating a fact. 

Dean’s chest tightened with guilt that he tried to push aside.

“I’ll find you somewhere to go, I promise,” said Dean, feeling the guilt creeping up his throat to thicken his vocal chords.

Cas didn’t say a word, he just continued to stare up at Dean, his body rigid where he stood in the centre of the room. 

“Look ... I’m just ... I’m so fucking sorry Cas ...” Dean felt the words come out in a rush, as if he’d finally broken some sort of emotional barrier, “it’s just ... Sam ...” 

“Keeping Sam safe will always be your priority, I know that,” said Cas, his voice calm and clear, “just because I am human now should not mean that you have to assist me. The angels are searching for me, they will kill me, and you are trying to keep your brother safe from harm ...” 

“No, Cas, it’s not like that-“ Dean stopped himself abruptly. His heart was hammering against his chest as he held the ex-angel’s gaze. In that moment he wanted to confess everything. He wanted to tell Cas about Ezekiel and Sam and how the angel he had trusted was making him choose and how telling Cas that he had to leave was like voluntarily severing a limb and throwing it in the garbage because someone said that they didn’t like it. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

Cas was looking at him now with a curious gaze. His eyes were narrowed and his head was slightly cocked to one side. Dean just wanted to pull him into a big bear hug and never let him go. Woah, hugging, he thought, when did I become such a sissy?

Eventually, Dean’s eyes wandered back towards the pile of bed things on the floor by the door. He glanced around at the bed and realized that it was missing all of its sheets. 

“So Cas, the sheets?” 

It took the ex-angel a moment to cotton on to what Dean was talking about and then he looked suddenly sheepish. 

“Oh, those,” he said, his cheeks tinged with a blush as his eyes found the ground, “sleeping has been very problematic. I was constantly aware of my surroundings for several millennia. Switching off is proving very difficult.” 

Just when Dean thought he couldn’t possibly feel anymore guilt. 

“So you slept by the door because ...?” 

“Well ... because that way if someone were to come through the door then they would wake me and I would be a little more ... guarded.” 

Castiel looked embarrassed, actually embarrassed. He also looked bone tired. Dean had been looking at him all day but he had never really seen him; the bloodshot eyes, the dark circles, the slump of his shoulders. 

“Okay, right.”

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Dean. 

“Go and sit on the bed,” he said, gently shoving Cas in the right direction. 

Then, Dean scooped up the sheets and pillows and headed towards the double bed that Cas was now sat on. He laid the pillows out in what could only be described as a nest and left the comforter in the centre. Then, he dragged a chair from the side of the room and propped it underneath the door handle. 

“There, see,” Dean smiled slightly, “now you’ll be able to hear if someone comes in.”

In the future Dean would always insist that his only intension was to tuck Cas into bed. He was going to make sure that he was warm and comfortable and then leave. Nobody questioned, not even Dean himself, that he’d already blocked the exit. 

Dean slowly walked back to the bed, where Cas was still sat on one side. 

“Lie back ... into the pillows,” said Dean, watching as Cas shuffled himself across the mattress and laid back against the pillow nest, “right ...” 

Those bright blue eyes were staring up at him from the bed and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. He felt like they were on the cusp of something huge. It was as if Dean’s next movement determined the rest of their lives. 

The hunter couldn’t think. He just stared at the ex-angel. All of his instincts were telling him to leave, to just get out and go back to his own room. But then there was a tiny whisper in the back of his mind, a voice that he had tried to ignore for so long. It spoke to him of forbidden things; of secrets to be spoken and angels to be touched. Dean didn’t have time to be nervous or consider his decision.

“I could stay with you for tonight, if you want?” The words were out before they’d even formed in his mind. Seconds crawled by like hours as Dean hesitantly waited for a reply. This never usually happened. Dean was always in charge of the situation, especially situations that included beds and lots of skin on show. 

“I think that would be helpful, thank you,” concluded Castiel, nodding once up at Dean. 

In one swift movement he had slipped into the bed next to the ex-angel. 

Cas froze and suddenly Dean didn’t know what to do. What if Cas didn’t want this at all? What if he just wanted him to get out of his room and never come back? Just as Dean had convinced himself that this was a bad idea Cas relaxed against the pillows and began to pull the comforter over himself. 

“Like this?” asked Cas, his eyes wide. 

“Yeah,” Dean said softly, “like that.” 

He gently pulled the cover over them both until he was satisfied that Cas was warm enough and then he stopped. 

They were both just laid at separate sides of the bed, heads facing inwards. Dean was trying to avoid Cas’ eyes but it seemed like the other man was just staring, as always. 

They were silent for a few minutes. 

“You have to relax, or you’ll never get to sleep,” said Dean, “I’m here and I’m wide awake so don’t worry about intruders. I’ll protect you as much as I can.” 

Something in Castiel’s face softened, his eyelids drooped, but then he turned the other way. 

“This way I can see the door,” he murmured. 

Dean found himself missing those piercing blue eyes. 

They laid like that for half an hour and yet sleep still did not come for Castiel. 

Eventually he spoke out into the darkness; “sleeping is an ordeal. I do not know how you do it regularly.” 

Dean felt his lips twist up in spite of the guilt that was still residing in his gut. Then a thought occurred to him. 

“Did you sleep while you were with April?” asked Dean, trying to ignore the little leap in his throat. He was not jealous, not jealous at all, he is only in this bed to help Cas and because Cas leaves tomorrow, no other reason.

“Yes, for a number of hours,” said Cas, quietly. 

Right then. A guy has to do what a guy has to do, right?

“We could try something else then. If you want me to stop just let me know,” said Dean, already half-regretting his next actions. 

So slowly that Castiel could barely feel him moving, Dean inched towards the ex-angel’s body. He could feel the heat radiating off the tanned skin and, impossibly slowly, he reached out a hand and wrapped in around Cas’ waist. 

For a moment Cas was tense, but then he relaxed into the touch. Dean was pressing the palm of his hand onto the hard stomach of the other man. He could feel light muscles through the thin t-shirt and he was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to run his hands all over than tight, warm body. Woah there, Dean thought, resisting temptation, he hadn’t had those types of thoughts since he was 19.

When he was confident that Cas was okay with the contact, he moved his body forward and slotted in right behind Castiel. Dean was pressed flush against Cas’ back now and he heard an audible intake of breath from the other man. 

“Is this okay?” asked Dean, and he felt embarrassment wash over him for how raspy his voice sounded. 

“It’s more than okay,” whispered Castiel, shifting back just a bit more so that his head was against Dean’s face. 

Dean knew that he should be panicking. He should be ready to run away as fast as he could. But he had waited so long for this. His arms were wrapped around the smaller man’s waist and all he could feel was comfort and warmth and a vague feeling of contentedness that he had not known for a very long time. The guilt was still there though, holding fast in his gut. 

“Cas ... I wanted you to know that ... that you leaving is for your own good,” Dean stumbled over the words, feeling the ex-angel’s discomfort at this topic being raised once more. 

“I feel that I would be good here,” answered Cas, his voice low. 

“You would, I know you would, but you’re protected from the angels and I’m not. They’ll look for wherever I am. They know you’ll come to me.” 

Dean felt his voice catch at the end of the sentence. How the hell had any of this happened tonight? What was going on? 

“It’s okay Dean, I do not blame you.” The words were breathed out and Dean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. How did Cas not blame him? Everything was his fault. Cas was damned as soon as he raised Dean from perdition. 

“I do not blame you for anything, Dean,” said Cas, shifting slightly against the pillows and bringing the fingertips of one hand to rest lightly in Dean’s palm. 

The gesture was soft and intimate and made Dean freeze in place. He suddenly became very aware that he was in bed with Cas. He was in bed with Castiel. No no no, this should not be happening. But then the fingertips squeezed tighter, so that their hands were effectively clasped together, and Dean found it impossible to remember any of the reasons he had for not being here. 

So Dean just laid there and breathed Cas in, knowing that he may never get this opportunity again. The ex-angel still smelt of heaven, that sweetness that had always reminded Dean of maple syrup, but he also smelt more like just Cas now. There was something like wood-smoke about him, a scent that Dean thought had come from Jimmy, but then there was also a certain cinnamon-like musk that belonged entirely to the angelic being. Dean just laid and memorised it completely, wanting to speak but knowing that all of his thoughts would forever remain as beautiful things that were never said. 

When had he let himself get this close? Why had he let things go so far? Immediately he began to panic. He wanted to jump up and get out of there. Maybe grab a few beers and visit a strip club. But then he heard that deep voice say; 

“What is sex with a man like?” 

The question was serious and quiet but it set huge alarm bells ringing in Dean’s head. What the actual fuck? He began to pull away but Cas’ hand caught his fast.

“No, please don’t leave. I’m almost sleeping,” said Cas, and his voice sounded so desperate that Dean relented and pressed himself back against the man’s body. He slowly felt their fingers twine together, as if of their own accord. 

Dean had had no idea what to do. Was he still supposed to answer the question? This had got way too complicated. 

“How am I supposed to know? I like big-breasted women in tight skirts not ...” 

“Dean,” the clarity of Cas’ voice made the hunter fall into silence, “I put you back together again. I returned all of your memories to you.” 

Dean could feel panic bubbling in his chest. Nobody knew about that. To everybody else’s knowledge he was completely straight. This time he decided to say nothing at all. 

“I was just wondering objectively,” said Cas, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he began to droop in Dean’s arms, head growing heavy against the pillow, “because doing this with a woman feels very different so I expect that sexual intercourse would too.” 

Once again, Dean decided to say nothing. They’d come this far and Cas was so nearly asleep that he couldn’t bring himself to shout or run. He just laid behind Cas, saying nothing at all and acting as if he didn’t want to show Castiel how it felt. Because he did. He wanted to kiss Castiel, dirty and open-mouthed; he wanted the hard, hot body pressed against his; he wanted to write every unsaid thing onto Castiel’s skin with his lips. 

“I think I like this better,” murmured Cas, finally falling asleep and leaving Dean wide-eyed, his heart hammering with pleasure against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I am British and sometimes miss some americanisms so I'm super sorry if certain words are wrong for the characters etc.


End file.
